International Incident

I have now been in Romania for nearly three months, and I'm beginning to observe some significant cultural differences. One of these concerns moving air. Romanians seem to have an instinctive aversion to any breeze or hint of fresh air that enters an enclosed space. I first experienced this in September during an unusal heat spell. I attended a meeting of inspectors in Brasov on a day with temperatures reaching the mid-90s. Fifty people packed themselves into a room designed to accommodate thirty and sat sweating as if in a hotbox. Not only was there no air conditioning, but every window was sealed. I had hoped that as autumn arrived I would get some relief. I realized that my hope was in vain on a crisp October day when I hailed a cab on my way to work. As I opened the taxi door a wave of heat blasted me in the face as if I had opened the door to Hades. I could almost hear the shrieks of the damned as I took my seat next to the driver. After a few minutes beads of sweat were appearing on my forehead and I was struggling to breathe the thick fiery air. I decided to take matters in my own hands, and I nonchalantly cracked the window a few inches. In a flash the driver exclaimed in horror, reached across me, and summarily rolled the window back up. For good measure he turned the heater up a notch (from BAKE to BROIL I think) and eyed me contemptuosly as if daring me to pull a foolish stunt like that again. This same Romanian need to superheat enclosed spaces extends everywhere. Trains, busses, classrooms, etc are all kept uncomfortably hot. I have begun toying with idea of working in my underwear. Imagine my surprise and delight, then, when I entered a train compartment recently and found the window partially opened. I would never again dare to crack a window myself, but since I found it that way I chose to let sleeping windows lie. For an hour or so, I and my companions in the compartment enjoyed a pleasant journey through the countryside with the company of a wonderful light breeze. We then made a stop and were joined by a middle-aged couple dressed as if on a Himalayan expedition (I think their Sherpa guide was packed off somewhere in third-class). After a few moments they spoke to a young woman sitting next to me. The young woman then got up and closed the window about halfway. As I sat there reading my book, the couple muttered something else to the woman and left. The train journey continued on uneventfully for several hours when the young woman turned to me and spoke. "You know you offended that couple earlier", she said. "What? How?" I said, vaguely even remembering who she could have been referring to. "That couple that wanted the window closed. They said you were selfish for not closing it. That's why I closed it halfway. But then they just got angry with me and said that I was taking your side because you were a foreigner. So they left." My side? What side? Did I have a side? I was baffled. I had somehow caused an international incident by doing...well...by doing nothing. I suddenly wondered who else I might have affronted while minding my own business. My Romanian friends have assured me that this was not typical and I shouldn't worry, but still I have found myself a little paranoid. I have also found myself searching items on Yahoo for news about climbing accidents involving Romanian couples on Everest. Avalanche season is approaching.

Snaps From My Teacher Training Course

Some Snaps From Suceava

International Conference on British and American Studies

This is a picture of me speaking at the Messages, Sages, and Ages Conference at the University of Stephan Cel Mare. I was one of two keynote speakers for the conference. It was a wonderful experience although I felt a bit out of my element. Most of the participants were PhD professors in literary studies with topics such as "The Space-Time Paradigm in British Literature", and "The Duality of Reality and Imagination in British and American Post-Modernist Fiction." The title of my speech was, "Bumping My Head; Navigating Through Cross-Cutural Doorways." I am not sure if the content was Modernist, Post-Modernist, or Post-Post-Modernist. Whatever it was, those in attendance will now have strategies for keeping their balance while using a Japanese "squatty-potty". Don't let the serious look on my face fool you. The picture was snapped after the conclusion of my talk. I tried to pose like I was saying something profound. Sadly it looks more like I need to make a quick exit for that aforementioned squatty-potty.

Dem Bones Dem Bones Dem Dry Bones

October 14th is the feast day of Sfanta Parasceva, the Defender of Moldavia. Her bones and other holy relics are kept at Iasi's massive central cathedral. The faithful from across Romania and much of Eastern Europe converge on the city for a week of activities both religious and decidedly secular. Like rock fans seeking tickets for a sure to be sold-out show, lines of people camp out for days outside the cathedral for the chance to pray over the sacred bones of Parasceva. The less devout, however, skip the church, break out their latest batch of "must"( a wine-like spirit) and stumble through the streets attending concerts, cultural events, and craft fairs. The goods for sale are equally incongruous. At one stall selling handiwares, a row of crosses and religious icons shared a display case with a naked gnome giving the finger and a print of Minnie Mouse mooning a red-faced Goofey.

On the last day of the festivities, I left Iasi to attend a conference about 100 miles to the northwest. It was my first solo train journey and I was exceedingly pleased that I managed to board the right train and find my seat without a hitch. As I entered the compartment I was cheerfully greeted by a 77 year-old woman from the southern part of the country returning from her pilgrimmage. She immediately began chatting with me in rapid-fire Romanian. I tried to be good company, but after establishing that I was a teacher from America going to a conference, my linguistic skills began to fail me. This did not deter her. She kept right on going--highly animated--sometimes laughing at a joke she had made, and then proceding to regale me with more stories filled with wit and pathos. After a few moments the compartment door opened and a young university student entered and took her seat. The older woman asked our new travelling companion if she spoke English. After a moment's hesitation, she responded, "Uh...da." My elderly friend's eyes illuminated. She pointed to me and pronounced "din America!" After a few more moments the young woman turned to me and said, "She is happy because I can translate for her." The young soujouner did not appear overjoyed at the prospect as she tucked away the novel she had planned to read in silence and annonymity and sat back to assume her role as a conduit for cross-cultural communication. With that the old woman began to pull out small saint cards. These cards bore the pictures and vital statistics of various champions of Orthodoxy much like baseball cards with the batting percentages and earned run averages of major league Hall of Famers. "This card is of Saint Parasceva," said our translator. "She is especially good for saving you from poisons." The woman handed over a second card. "This is Jesus. I think you know him already." All in all I received six cards. I am not sure what the others will save me from, but if get poisoned any time soon I know to reach for Parasceva. Then the old woman tried to teach me the sign of the cross. To her horror I touched my left shoulder before my right--the Catholic way. "Nu, nu, nu...", she said throwing her hands up in the air with exasperation. "No. You have to do the right first. That makes Satan run away," said the student. I complied like a chastened school-boy. "Oh--da da da--buna!", the woman said, happy to see that her efforts were not in vain. She then began to explain through my translator that besides getting Satan to flee, the use of the sign of the cross also helps to get discounts when shopping. After much more theological education I saw that the train was pulling into Suceava--my stop. I asked if I could take a picture of my new friends before departing. The old woman covered her face and said "Batran--batran" (old old). Despite her protestations, I think you will all agree she has a lovely face. As I left, the young student reached for her novel and bid me farewell. I still don't have all the saints straight in my mind, but I am definately going to remember that shopping tip--Christmas is just around the corner.

I'm not dead.

I am remiss for not updating this blog for nearly a week. I am busy preparing for my first teacher training course which begins tomorrow. In addition, I have to prepare a keynote speech for a conference in the neighboring county of Suceava before going on to another conference in Bucharest at the end of the month. While in reality I try to maintain the face of a calm smiling Buddha statue, the picture above more closely resembles how I am feeling.

I promise to post something within a few days. If not, I promise to refund the price of all your subscriptions.

To my father, I would like to thank you for your thoughts on the election. I think Lincoln would be a good choice, however I doubt he would want to run again seeing how things turned out the last time. As for Palin, she might well go moose hunting in the congress. Thankfully most of our politicians rarely bother to show up for votes. The ones who do come will most likely be asleep, so they will die painlessly.

To Dr. Sherri Tapp. It was good to hear from you as well. I hope your mod. goes swimmingly. I always enjoyed coming to your class. Are you still hitting the gym? I am going to join a local fitness club once they are finished with rennovations. In the mean time, I am enjoying a diet of cream and butter soaked mashed-potatoes, fried meatballs, pork and beef cutlets, and 300-varieties of sausages. The only green thing I have seen on any plate here in Romania is the floral pattern on the porcelain.

If anyone is thinking of possible Christmas gifts, some nitro-glycerin and a defibrolator might come in handy soon!

Decision 2008

Last week I had the opportunity to visit some more classes at Mihail Eminescu High School. I was met in the teachers room by a dignified looking woman in her late 40's who stood about 5ft1. "Jeff, we are going to visit a British Culture class for twelfth graders. I will introduce you at the beginning. Hopefully if there is time at the end, students can ask you a few questions about America."

Together we slogged up five flights of stairs. For some reason every class I have observed is on the fifth floor. The first impression I make is of a man huffing and puffing with beads of sweat at the temples.

After being introduced to the class I was directed to a seat at the back of the room, and the lesson began. The topic for the day was the British Parliament. The following are some facts I learned about the Parliament.

1. In the House of Commons, there are two red lines drawn on the floor separating the Torries from the Labour Party. No one is allowed to cross these lines. This is to prevent sword fights and stranglings.

2. The Queen has the power to veto legislation. The last monarch to veto legislation was Charles the First. He was beheaded. It would be interesting to see what would happen if the Queen tried her luck and vetoed something just to be a provocative.

3. The House of Lords is composed of aristocrats who have inherited their titles. If, however, someone gets a Knighthood, they can be members of the House of Lords as well. The likes of Sir Paul McCartney and Sir Elton John are members of the House of Lords. I was going to ask if that included women like Dame Judy Dench or Dame Helen Mirren. I haven't gotten the whole Sir and Dame thing figured out. And what about Dame Edna?

With about 15 minutes left in the class, the teacher announced, "As you know, we have a special guest here from America. Maybe he can talk a little bit about the American system."

I walked to the front of the class and drew an abstract rendering of the Capitol Building. Drawing is not one of my strong suits. Once I attempted to draw a beaver on the white board, and my American History students thought it was a Tyranosaurous Rex. Some of them probably still think the French and Indian War erupted over competition for dinosaur pelts. To my surprise this class recognized the building and even knew about the Senate and the House of Representatives. It never fails to amaze me how much students from other countries know about America. US students struggle to know the basics. According to a recent study, when shown a picture of the Capitol, 30% of American high school students thought it was the White House. More students know who said "That's hot" than know who said "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself".

After a few minutes discussing the American system of government one of the students asked me about the upcoming elections. "So, who do you want to be the president?" I answered that I was still undecided and that both candidates had strengths and weaknesses. Yes-yes, I know. I admit that was a vague wishy-washy answer. I am not proud of my response. I then asked them what they thought. One girl raised her hand. "I think McCain will win." I asked her why she thought that. "Well," she responded. "I just think he is good." I have no right to criticize this answer. Her response was at least as good as mine. To her credit she came down definitively on one side. Then another girl piped up. "But he is too old." To that I responded. "He is the oldest candidate for president. If he is elected, he will be 72 when he takes office. I believe that Obama is 47. That's a big age difference."

"He doesn't look 47", one student said. "That's becuase he is black," said a girl at the back. "Black people don't get wrinkles." This was an opportunity to teach an American expression. "That's right, in America we say, 'black don't crack' ". I actually said, "black doesn't crack" because I didn't want them to be confused as to the correctness of the grammar. I didn't want to get into all the details about African American Vernacular English and its verb conjugations.

As I left the class, I felt out of touch with the goings on of life back in the States--especially with the elections. This weekend I had an opportunity to discuss this with my dear friend Pam Smucker (also known as Smucky--see "Milestones" blog entry from September 1st). The previous night my parents had hosted a "dinner and games" night and invited Pam along with family friends Daryl and Ella Richter. Politics became the topic of the evening. Interested in how people are feeling about the candidates back home, I quizzed Pam on what was said. The following is a list of the pertinent points:

1. John McCain seems arrogant to Daryl. 2. Michelle Obama's hair style and choice of dresses bothers Pam. 3. Ella doesn't like the way Michelle Obama points her chin when she answers questions.

It brings a tear to my eye witnessing American citizens actively engaged in our great democracy. I wonder what everyone thought of Mrs. McCain's choice of lipstick.